craptastic vlog

I really don't understand how my brain manages to render such graphic and historically accurate scenes of total epic violence. Does anyone else get war dreams? Because I have them a lot. And I have never been to war; have never been anywhere remotely near a war or battle. So why do I have this sh*t in my head?!
>:(

I made a vlog over the weekend. Attempted to post it yesterday, but all the computers and the internet were being disagreeable. I apologize for the poor quality, but here it is. 
The password: this is who we are


Untitled from Mich H on Vimeo.

I really hate the way I look and sound on video. I may take this down when I eventually get out of the nightmare funk and come back to my senses. 

So after my talking about not bingeing last night (Sunday), I ended up pigging out. Hey there, Dairy Rash! Nice to see you again!

Ugh.

No man who never did nothing never made any mistakes.

The first round of ponies will hopefully go out this weekend. And because I have a spending problem, there shall soon be about 16 more ponies up for grabs. There were some eBay lots containing ponies and accessories for which I have pined for many a year, so I spent far too much money to obtain them. :D 

Has anyone besides Peri and Cinnamon NOT received their tarot cards? Lemme know! There's still some cards left, if anyone wants some, or wants more. 

If you've finished decorating them, you can scan and email them to me, or send them in the mail--whatever you prefer! When I have them all back, I'm going to try and go through one of those self-publishing sites and see if I can upload all of the cards and then whoever wants a whole deck can just buy it off that site. ...

Cinnamon and Peri, methinks your packages have vanished into the Postal Netherworld. I'll re-send stuff, and this time it goes registered mail, since apparently the postal service sucks @s$. Although in Peri's case, it may have been the earthquake that lost that package. 

I made this awesome sandwich for lunch:

3 slices of bacon (90), 1 egg (70), some baby lettuce, 1 tbsp of lite mayo (35), and 2 slices of toasted Weight Watcher's whole wheat bread (80). 275 is kind of a lot for one meal (in my head, anyway), but I've been making lunch the biggest meal of my day. I eat most of my food during the day, that way I have enough energy for the gym after work, and then a reason to eat nothing for dinner. Because if I eat nothing in the evening, I won't be tempted to binge. Eating a small dinner just makes me hungrier, so why bother?

Yeah the whole Eating More thing is kind of not working. 

I have read five books in as many days. [This is what happens when you don't sleep.] And that didn't even put a dent in my Pile of Books to Read.

It would probably have helped if 2 of those 5 books were from the Pile, rather than books I've already read multiple times. Those were Harry Potter #7

and Nocturnes, John Connolly's book of short stories. John was in New York on Tuesday, but I couldn't go because of work. >:( This upset me a great deal, as he is my favourite author. 

The other books I read:

- Finished Murphy's Boy. I love her books. She writes so well, considering it's technically non-fiction/psychology

- Among the Barons. Idk if that one even counts, since it's so short that I read the whole thing in about an hour.

- Charles Perrault's collection of Fairytales.

I've been reading others that I have not finished yet. I'm not listing all of them--I updated the Books I'm Reading page. It occurred to me that I am reading too many books simultaneously (13, by the last count...).

I am stagnating. My head is blocked. The words are there somewhere, but they just won't come out. I've no ideas for good blog posts. I can't finish the book I've been working on for the past year. (Two years, if you count the original draft that was disemboweled and reconstructed into what is now the 2nd book in the series, currently titled "The Fairy Queen"). It's almost done, but I just can't seem to get those final chapters down on paper. The words are all there in my head, but they seem to evaporate as soon as I sit down with my notebook and fountain pen. 

I need a break. I need to get away. (See? I still think running away will fix everything.) I can't stand this inertia. Like a swamp in summertime. As the days wear on, I get more and more dried up and stinky. Eventually I will disappear altogether. There'll be nothing left except a slightly damp hole filled with decaying plants and some dried up insects and dead frogs. I'll stay that way until the autumn rains come and fill me back up again.

Except I don't know when autumn rain will come for my brain, nor what form it will take. 

Perhaps I should have been a swamp instead of a human.

My head hurts.

Because seriously, if my life never goes any further than Bergen County and full-time legal secretary, what the heck is the point? I'm not doing this for the next ten years. Even five seems like hell. I can't. I won't. 

Was talking to Mum about this the other night. She thinks I'm being melodramatic, that my own perception of myself is too grandiose. I shouldn't be having these kinds of thoughts; it's unhealthy. I should be so lucky to live in Bergen County and be a full-time legal secretary for the next ten years. What else is there?

I think she really truly believes that one day I'm going to wake up and be Normal. Just accept my menial office-worker existence and deal. Get married to some a-hole in a suit and tie, milk him for his money, and produce her some decent grandkids. 

Which is entirely ridiculous. The grandkids might be a possibility, but not the husband. I don't think so, anyway. I've always operated alone.

I'm still toying with the idea of grad school (provided that I can afford it some day in the not-too-distant future), but Mum doesn't think I should bother with either of the degrees I'm considering. She thinks that a master's in creative writing would be a waste of time. And she does not think me capable of achieving a master's in psychology, despite the fact that I've A's on every quiz, test, project, and paper in every psych class I've ever taken. 

[But why should I set so much store by what my mother thinks? I try not to. It's difficult.]

I wish I knew what I really wanted--psychologist, or college professor? If I can't make a career out of writing, those are my top choices. I can't choose both, though. Not immediately, anyway. I weigh the pros and cons of each choice multiple times a day, and thus procrastinate as far as working towards one of those choices. I've even made a chart:

It's not in my nature to just sit back and wallow in unhappiness. No good ever came from excessive wallowing. (Although there are some occasions that call for a certain amount of wallowing.) I believe that if something makes you unhappy, then you should DO SOMETHING about it.

Tomorrow, I think Boss is out for most of the day. I'm going to start looking at grad schools again, and maybe apply for some writing programs. No harm in applying, right? Like I say far too often: you never know if you don't try!

Have a good Friday, my luvs. <3